


An Angel and a Demon Walk Into a Therapist's Office

by dragonimp



Series: Turning Points [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Violence, M/M, Other, POV Outsider, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Therapy, couple's therapy, past trauma, stuffed full of headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonimp/pseuds/dragonimp
Summary: “Gentlemen,” she started.  “I have to be frank, here.  You both seem very genuine in wanting my services, but you’re . . .”  She gestured with her pen.  “You’re both talking around everything.  If I don’t start getting some honesty—well, I’m not sure I can really help you.”The two of them shared a look.  “Well,” Mr Fell said.  “I suppose it’s time to be honest.”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Turning Points [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657417
Comments: 255
Kudos: 895
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner, Our Own Side





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Exactly what it says on the tin.

Susan Travers, certified therapist who specialized in LGBT+ issues, has had her share of difficult clients.It came with the territory.But the couple in front of her now might just take the prize.

“Let’s start with this,” she tried, after several attempts had gotten nowhere.The most concrete thing she had gotten out of them was that recently things had gotten somewhat strained and awkward between them.“How did you meet?”

“Well—we’ve really known each other forever,” Mr Fell started.

Mr Ezra Fell sat primly on one end of her couch, hands folded in his lap.She recognized him from that idiosyncratic little bookshop in Soho; his old fashioned clothing—downright vintage—and fussy mannerisms were unmistakable.He just looked like the sort to run a bookshop with maddening hours that—if rumors were true—hated to sell books.

“But I suppose you could say we met—well—”

“—Through work,” his partner, Mr Crowley, supplied.

If Ezra Fell was eccentric, then Anthony Crowley was an enigma.Dressed all in black with snakeskin boots and a gaudy snakehead belt, he looked like a cross between a goth and an aging rock star.Everything from his clothing palette to his aggressive sprawl to the nervous energy apparent in the bounce of his foot and the twitch of his fingers was the polar opposite of Mr Fell.It almost looked deliberate.

“Yes, I suppose you could say we met through work,” Mr Fell continued.

“You ‘suppose’?” Susan asked.

“We met through work,” Mr Crowley insisted.He hadn’t taken off his pair of designer shades, which made his expressions hard to read.Continuing to wear the dark glasses indoors was certainly a flag; she couldn’t yet rule out something like photosensitivity, but her gut screamed _psychological issue_.

“I see,” she said.“You worked for the same company?”

“Rival companies,” Mr Fell corrected.

“Big rivals.”

“The biggest.”

“The _ultimate_ rivals.”

And there they were again.

Susan sighed.

“Gentlemen,” she started.“I have to be frank, here.You both seem very genuine in wanting my services, but you’re . . .”She gestured with her pen.“You’re both talking _around_ everything.If I don’t start getting some honesty—well, I’m not sure I can really help you.”

The two of them shared a look.“Well,” Mr Fell said.“I suppose it’s time to be honest.”

“Not much else we can do.”

There was a weight to their words that Susan couldn’t place.“If you’re worried, I can assure you that I take client confidentiality _very_ seriously.”

Mr Fell sat up straighter, if that was possible.“Well, you see, my dear, when we say we’ve known each other _forever_ , we really do mean from the beginning. _The_ beginning.Or close enough to it.It started in the garden— _The_ Garden, you know—where I was tasked with guard duty—”

Mr Crowley started tutting and made a gesture that clearly meant _darling you’re over explaining_.“He’s an angel, I’m a demon, literal sense, we met in Eden.”

“Well—yes.That’s the heart of it, I suppose.”

Susan stared at them.Points for audacity, but what the hell was she meant to do with _that_.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to show her.”

“Of course we are,” Mr Crowley said as he sat up.He pulled his shades off with one hand and with the other snapped his fingers toward the windows.

Susan jumped as the blinds pulled shut on their own.“How did you—”

“That’s just for some privacy, dear.That’s not what we wanted to show you.”

She looked back—and nearly jumped out of her skin.“Holy shi—”

The two beings in front of her—because it was clear now _men_ was not an adequate label—were not the beings she had thought walked into her office.

For one, they had wings.Great white ones behind Mr Fell, inky black ones behind Mr Crowley.But beyond that they both seemed to be—glowing.Or rather, Mr Fell was glowing, although she felt the term was inadequate.The brightness emanating from him seemed more like a living thing than any light she had ever seen.Around Mr Crowley was . . . not a shadow so much as a negative glow, every bit as alive.

She blinked and the strange auras were gone.

The wings were still there, folded awkwardly against the back of the sofa.

“I assure you, they’re quite real.”

One bright white wing stretched toward her, and without thinking she lifted a hand.A very physical primary feather met her, the barbs springy under her fingers.She snatched her hand back to her chest.“Oh.Wow.”

And then the wings were gone.Just like that.The beings on her sofa once again looked like nothing more than two middle aged men with two very eccentric senses of style.

Except that Mr Fell was now sipping a cup of tea she was very sure hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“So.”Mr Crowley gestured.“Angel.Demon.”

“We’re sorry to spring this on you, but you’re right about the honesty, and, well, there’s no good way to say it but to say it—oh, do leave them off, dear.I miss seeing your eyes.”

Mr Crowley froze in the act of putting on his shades, and the expression on his face told her that her gut had been right:psychological issue.

The mundanity of that grounded her.

“Okay,” she started.“Wow . . . okay.”

Okay, maybe not completely.

Susan rubbed at one eye beneath her glasses and tried again.“Okay.So . . . nothing in my training ever covered this.So—angels and demons are real.All right.”And one of each was sitting in her office.

Asking for relationship counseling.

Right.The relationship part she could understand.The existential freak-out could wait.Preferably until she was at home and Liz could tuck her in with blankets and cocoa.(Spiked with rum.She was going to need the rum.)

“So . . . I guess . . . I’m going to have to treat you like any other clients here.Okay?With the—the understanding that I’ll be, um . . . I’ll probably have to . . . _translate_ , I guess?Bring things down to my, um, _mortal_ frame of reference.”

“Oh yes, of course.That would be for the best.”

“Right.”She paused, looking at the notes she had already made and wondering how much she was going to have to throw out.“Two questions, then, before we start.Um . . . are these your real names, then?Ezra Fell, and Anthony Crowley?”The names seemed pretty mundane for supernatural beings.

“Well, my full name and title is The Principality Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, but Aziraphale will do.”

“I’m just Crowley.”

“Right.Got it.”She made a note.“Second question.Uh. . . .” She hesitated, then blurted out, “Where did the wings go?”

“Oh, they’re tucked away in . . . what is the modern parlance?Something about pockets?”

“Pocket dimension,” Crowley supplied with an amused smile.He was back in his sprawl, sans shades.“We tuck them away in a fold of reality.”

“Yes, they tend to get in the way otherwise.As I’m sure you can imagine.Feathers everywhere.”

“Of course.”She decided not to note that.“Let’s—let’s get down to it, then.You said you met in . . . Eden?Did I hear that right?”

“Yes, the Garden of Eden,” Mr Fell—Aziraphale—confirmed.“Or more precisely, on the eastern wall.You see, I was there to guard the eastern gate from—well, from _his_ lot.Only, we weren’t expecting them to come up from underneath.Should have done, I suppose.Makes sense, coming from the ‘basement’ and all, but we hadn’t known the pattern then.So this was after the whole business with the tempting and the apple and the banishment and all that—”

Susan had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting _you mean that was literal_?

“—And I was standing above the eastern gate, watching Adam and Eve go—and this lovely black and red serpent climbed the stones behind me.”The fondness as he glanced at Crowley couldn’t have been clearer.“And then Crowley—Crawley, then—shifted form, and said . . . oh, how best to translate it . . .?”

Crowley flapped a hand.He had been watching the entire ramble leaning against the arm of the sofa with his cheek on his hand, with a smile that could only be called _adoring_.“Probably something like, ‘that went down like a lead balloon.’”

“Yes, that captures the essence, thank you.”

Oh.Of course they wouldn’t have been speaking English, English wouldn’t have been a thing back in . . . whatever year BC this was.Right.“I’d like to hear your first impressions of each other, if I could.A-Aziraphale?” she said, stumbling only slightly over the odd name.

“Well, aside from how lovely he was, I suppose my first impression would have to be that I hadn’t known a demon could be so friendly and personable.Downright chatty.”

Susan nodded, making notes.“And . . . Crowley?What was your first impression of Aziraphale?”

Eyes still on his companion, he said, “That he was the kindest idiot of an angel I’d ever met.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You _gave away_ your flaming sword!”

“She was _expecting_!And they’d only ever known the Garden, I couldn’t just let them go out there with nothing!My _job_ had been to _protect_ them!”

“You see what I mean?”

This last had been to her.

Susan cleared her throat and looked down to her notes to cover a smile.“I notice that, for each of you, it was positive traits that stood out.Given your respective, umm . . . stations?”The term seemed inadequate but she wasn’t sure what else to use.“I can only assume that this wasn’t a given.Or even normal.But it sounds like it was a very positive encounter for both of you.”

“Yes.Yes, I’d say it was.”

Almost to himself, Crowley added, “And then it rained.”

“Ah yes, the first rainstorm.We got quite soaked.”

“ _You_ got soaked, angel.I was under your wing.”When Aziraphale glanced over at him he added, “What sort of angel shelters a demon without a thought?”

“What is it in particular that struck you about that?” she gently prodded.

Crowley darted her a look like he’d forgotten she was there.“Uh well it’ssss—it’s not the done thing!Angels aren’t charitable towards demons, we’re The Adversary!”

“Well there’s no rule against it,” Aziraphale protested.

“Can you imagine Gabriel lending a wing like that?Or Michael?You know either one of them would have discorporated me out of hand.Sandalphon?”He shook his head with an exaggerated shudder.

“Well—that is. . . .”At Crowley’s raised eyebrows he trailed off with a sigh.“I suppose that’s true.”

“What you’re saying is that the gesture was not expected behavior for an angel,” Susan clarified.

“Exactly!”

“It sounds like what really struck you here is that in these two moments—the sword, and then the rainstorm—Aziraphale chose the kind action over the proper one.”

“Yes!Yes, exactly.”Crowley was back to staring.“A kind idiot—‘idiot’ because he could have gotten into a lot of trouble if Head Office had been bothering to pay attention.”

From Aziraphale’s expression he didn’t disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated whether to post this as one long oneshot or several short chapters, and ultimately decided that chapters were best. It's all written, so expect frequent posting until it's all up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The Arrangement started because we kept both being sent to the same areas, so we’d just sort of—” Crowley waved a hand. “—cancel each other out. It seemed silly for us to go to so much work for a net zero outcome.”

“The Arrangement started because we kept both being sent to the same areas, so we’d just sort of—” Crowley waved a hand.“—cancel each other out.It seemed silly for us to go to so much work for a net zero outcome.”He seemed more relaxed today in his sprawl, but he hadn’t taken the shades off.“So I figured, eh, why should we?Why not check it off, send a note to our Head Offices saying we’d done it, and stay home.Or at the very least, only one of us needed to go.End result would be the same.”

“And you agreed?Aziraphale?”

“Well, no, not at first.”

“Took me a couple centuries to convince him.”

“I could see his point, of course, but it just seemed—well, it _was_ —duplicitous.And dangerous!”

“I knew _my_ head office never looked that closely,” Crowley elaborated.“The filing system is horrible down there.But he was worried about his.”

“I was worried about yours, as well.One of us needed to be.”

“I knew they never bothered to check up.Long as they could check it off the list they didn’t care.”

“Once you did have this ‘arrangement,’ how did you decide who did what?” Susan asked.

“Tossed for it, usually,” Crowley said.

“Don’t think I don’t know you would fix the toss,” Aziraphale interjected.

Crowley grinned.“Of course I would fix the toss.How come you never called me on it?”

“Well . . .” he dithered.“It . . . would still come out even.More or less.”

“And your, um, ‘Head Offices’ would not have been happy, had they found out you were job sharing?”

“Oh, they would have been quite angry—they _were_ quite angry.”

“Course, that was over a lot more than the Arrangement,” Crowley pointed out.

“Well—yes.But even so.If Head Office had found out that I had been. . . .”

“ _Fraternizing_?”

It was clearly a dig.Susan made a note to come back to that later.“So if it was so potentially dangerous, what made you finally agree to the Arrangement?”

“Oh. . . .”Aziraphale folded and refolded his hands in his lap.“I’ve asked myself that for centuries.I wouldn’t have ever agreed, if I had ever sensed any malice or ill intent from Crowley.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No!Even when he was doing his job as a demon it was more mischief and mayhem, never outright malevolence.And usually impersonal.A widespread, minor tempting that humans could either give into or ignore, or—or something to rile the humans up, but leaving them free to choose how they responded.I don’t think I’ve ever seen him purposely cause harm.Usually seemed to go out of his way to avoid it, really.”

She glanced at Crowley.“That seems . . . pretty benevolent for a demon.”

He groaned.Or maybe it was a growl.“It’s not _benevolence_ , it’s—it’s casting a wide net.Hell wants tainted souls, right?Too many humans around to do it one by one, to make it all _personal_.So I don’t.I cast it wide.It’s just a numbers game.And once a human is _dead_ it’s all over, so you gotta leave them alive until the balance is right.Or else all your hard work is for nothing.”

Judging by Aziraphale’s smile he’d heard this before, and didn’t buy a bit of it.“Yes, that is how you justified it to your Head Office.”

Crowley’s response was definitely a growl.

“Getting back to point here, I can see how you would come to the conclusion that having this ‘Arrangement’ wouldn’t cause more harm than good—literally—but it sounds like it would still be risky personally.What made you decide the benefits outweighed the risk?”

Aziraphale fidgeted again.“Well—well, to start, I realized Head Office really _didn’t_ pay much attention.Not to routine blessings and miracles and such like.Crowley showed me by doing double duty once before I’d gotten to the area—doing both the tempting and the blessing.And . . . Head Office never noticed.In fact they seemed to particularly like the results of his miracles and blessings.”He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “So I started agreeing.”

“When you say ‘Head Office,’ do you mean—” she twitched her pen upward.“Erm—God?”

“The Archangels.The Almighty was keeping to Herself by this time.”

Susan paused in her notes.“I’m sorry, but I need some clarification.Maybe I got my hierarchy of angels wrong, but I thought principalities were one rank _above_ archangels?”

“Oh—no.I’m afraid that’s a problem of translation.You see, there are archangels and there are _Archangels_ , and they’re completely different terms, but—well, there’s no good way to convey that in most human languages.”

Crowley leaned against the arm of the sofa to better watch his companion talk.Given how comfortable Aziraphale was with this she guessed it was a common thing.

“You see, the third sphere, the lowest, is the—the guardians, for lack of a better word.What humans usually mean by the term ‘angels.’”He brought his hands up to illustrate relative positions.“Above them are the messengers, or _higher angels_ —archangels—and above them the principalities, where I’m ranked.In the second sphere there are the powers, virtues, and dominions—all poor translations, mind—and in the first sphere are the thrones, cherubim, and seraphim.But above all three spheres are the _highest of all_ angels—the Archangels.In mundane terms, our Head Office.I’m still not sure how that highest rank got left out when humans began transcribing these things.Definitely an erroneous conflation of terms.”

“Eeh,” Crowley interrupted.“I _might_ have had something to do with that.Might have nudged a scribe here or there.”

Aziraphale shot him a reproachful glance.“Oh, of course you did, you old serpent.I’m not sure why I didn’t think that from the start.”

“I was feeling petty.Wanted a bit of revenge on those wank-wings.”He shrugged.“Never thought it would stick around this long.Thought for sure _someone_ up there would send down a divine correction after the first one or two manuscripts.Tops.”

Aziraphale looked oddly resigned.“That would have required they pay more than passing attention to what’s going on down here.”He turned to her with an apologetic smile.“I seem to have gotten a bit off, haven’t I.You were asking about the Arrangement?”

“That’s all right, I asked for the explanation.”Susan glanced at her notes.“You were saying that you realized you weren’t being as micromanaged as you thought, but I think I’m still missing the core reason here.What made you finally agree?”

“Yes, angel,” Crowley drawled.“What _did_ finally convince you to consort with the enemy?”

Aziraphale fidgeted, then looked over.“Well if you _must_ know, I enjoyed your company.”

Crowley made a small, shocked noise, but Susan couldn’t see enough of his expression to tell if it was genuine or ironic.She might have to ban the shades in future sessions.

“No one _up there_ took pleasure in the world,” Aziraphale continued.“Most angels cared for and loved humanity because it was their duty, nothing more.They were all so eager to return upstairs once their task was done.No one up there would ever—ever share a plate of oysters or argue with me about Will’s new play, or go out for crêpes.”

“Where you the only angel stationed on Earth full time?” Susan asked.

“In the greater European area, yes.But even the agents stationed in other areas split their time much more than I did.I _like_ it down here.Always have.”

“What about demons?Have there been other demons stationed on Earth full time?”

“A few,” Crowley said.“In other areas.But it’s the same deal—I was the only one who stayed up here because I wanted to.Most demons split their time and some don’t even bother taking on a physical corporation.Easier to whisper in an ear unnoticed if you don’t have a body, after all.”He heaved a sigh.“ _And_ it’s a little harder for us to pass as human.Can’t, completely.A lot of the others don’t bother to try.”

“So there was mutual interest in the world.An interest not shared by your other, ah, associates.It sounds like this ‘Arrangement’ was more of a cover for what was really a growing friendship.”

“Oh it was.Completely,” Aziraphale gushed.“It was the only excuse I had to seek out his company.”

Crowley’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline.

Aziraphale turned to him.“I know I’ve said otherwise.Many times.I know I’ve hurt you by putting those barriers between us, and I’m _so_ sorry.You see, I was—I was still trying to be the proper angel.I—I know that’s silly and it’s no excuse—but I was frightened.I didn’t know what—what having a _friendship_ with a demon would even mean.For me _or_ for you.What it might lead to.What would Hell have done if they’d found out?Or—goodness, what if _Heaven_ found out?They couldn’t have seen it as anything other than a demon seducing and corrupting an angel.Our Arrangement was dangerous enough, I couldn’t even imagine—oh, this makes it sound as if I had thought it out.I really hadn’t.”

Crowley didn’t look like he would be getting his wits about him any time soon.

“It sounds like you were drawn to Crowley, and wanted some sort of relationship with him, but thought you shouldn’t,” Susan said.“And the Arrangement was how you got yourself around that.”

“Oh, yes.Yes, exactly.”

“So what’s changed?You don’t seem to be operating under those same constraints now.What’s different?”

“Well we’re both . . . sort of retired.”

Crowley broke his reverie with a high pitched laugh.“If by ‘retired’ you mean ‘got our head offices so thoroughly pissed that they tried to kill us and then washed their hands of us completely,’ yeah.”

“We averted the Apocalypse.”

“We _helped_.Adam did most of it.”

“Who’s Adam?” she asked.

“The Antichrist,” Aziraphale said.“He’s really a very sweet boy.He didn’t want the world to end any more than we did.”

Right.Angels and demons were real, so why not the literal Antichrist.And the Apocalypse, capital-A.Right.“So you’re both now . . . ‘retired’?From being an angel and a demon?”

“From the official work of it,” Crowley clarified, still facing Aziraphale.“No more missives or assignments from Head Office.No one keeping track of how much good or how much evil we’re generating.Oh, and our whole Arrangement and—well, everything—got blown out into the open.”

“They were quite disgusted and want nothing more to do with us,” Aziraphale added.“Frankly, it’s mutual.”

“That . . . sounds traumatic,” she said.“But it must also be a relief.No more living in the closet.”

“Oh, yes.A great relief.I don’t. . . .”He looked over at Crowley, then said quietly, “I no longer have to convince myself I don’t love you.”

“Angels love everything.”Crowley’s voice sounded raw.

“My dear.You know what’s not how I mean it.”

“. . . Yeah.”He was barely audible.“Yeah.I know.”

“But this means you’ve lost your framework and structure.Even if it is a good thing, it’s still a huge adjustment,”Susan pointed out.“Sudden freedom like that can be very unsettling.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doing her best to ignore the snarls and growls, Susan flipped back through her notes from previous sessions. “I understand your assertion,” she said, carefully keeping her voice level. “But Crowley, from everything you’ve both told me, your behavior has consistently shown kindness"

“‘ _Nice_.’”Crowley spat the word.“I’m not _nice_!Demons can’t be _nice_.”

Aziraphale had just described Crowley’s behavior as such in an anecdote and was now watching the outburst with raised eyebrows and a knowing expression.Susan made a note to come back to that later, but right now the more pressing issue was a demon with some clearly deep seated triggers.

“‘Nice’ gets burnt out of you.”Crowley had jumped to his feet and was pacing the small office, gesticulating wildly.He’d taken the shades off today and she was startled to see his eyes were fully yellow, the sclera completely swallowed.It made him look, for the first time, truly demonic.“And if that doesn’t work they dig it out with tooth and claw.A _demon_ isn’t _nice_.”

Doing her best to ignore the snarls and growls, Susan flipped back through her notes from previous sessions.“I understand your assertion,” she said, carefully keeping her voice level.“But Crowley, from everything you’ve both told me, your behavior has consistently shown kindness.Now I understand,” she pressed when he snarled, “that we’re talking about millennia here and I’ve only been told a tiny fraction.But unless you’ve both been severely misleading me—” she glanced at Aziraphale, who shook his head.“—then I would say ‘nice’ is a fair term to use.”

The anger flickered into fear—panic, really—before Crowley plastered the snarl back into place.His hands flexed and clenched at his sides and he squeezed his eyes shut.“Four letter word,” he hissed.“Not in our nature.”

“Crowley.”Aziraphale’s voice was low and calm.“ _No one_ is keeping score.Not anymore.”

Crowley turned away, facing the window, and shoved his hands through his hair.

“A few sessions back you said your Head Office tried to kill you,” Susan pressed.“If I can assume that wasn’t hyperbole—do you think at _this_ point there’s anything that could make them _more_ upset with you?Any behavior of yours that would be _even more_ over the line?”

“My dear boy, after that little stunt we pulled, they don’t even think you’re a proper demon anymore. _Gone native_.Remember?”

The half strangled sound Crowley made might have been a laugh.“Never was a _proper_ demon, was I?”

“I’d say your most demonic act was constantly stretching the truth in memos to Head Office.”

“And the M25.That one came back to bite me.”

“Well, yes.There is that.”

Susan bit back the urge to say _I knew there was something demonic about that damn motorway_.

Crowley came back and dropped into his corner of the sofa, leaning his head onto his hands.“For G— _someone’s_ sake, angel, do you know how much I stressed about keeping Hell off my ass?I fucking know I’m a lousy demon.If I wasn’t so good at spin and if everyone down there wasn’t so fucking lazy about checking up it would have been over for me centuries ago why do you think I wanted the holy water in the first place!”

“I’m sorry.”Aziraphale had twisted to face him.It was the first time she’d seen him sit less than perfectly straight.“I’m sorry, Crowley.There’s a lot I didn’t understand.”

“Weeeell, I. . . .”He made a vague gesture as he sat back. “I didn’t . . . really . . . explain a lot.”

“No . . . but even so I reacted badly.I was . . . less than rational.”

Crowley’s eyes had gone back to normal—as normal as they ever got—as he calmed down.

“Would it be fair to say that being assigned a positive trait such as ‘nice’ seemed—dangerous?” she said.“Like it put you in a vulnerable position.”

“Bad enough that I was _fraternizing_ with an angel, I could spin that if I had to.But to have that angel call me _nice_?And _mean it_?You don’t want to know what Beelzebub would have done if zey’d caught me _being nice_.”

“So you’ve been forcing yourself to act out of character, at least for your superiors.For . . . millennia, it sounds like.”

“I . . . guess.”

“Crowley, that’s remarkable.I mean, it’s remarkable that, despite what sounds like a very real, very physical threat, your behavior seems to have quite consistently shown kindness.”

He flinched at the term and looked away.

“Crowley, dear, you’ve always been kind.Been _nice_ ,” Aziraphale said.“One of the first things you said to me was that you thought the punishment for the apple was too harsh.You were distressed over the children during the flood.You thought the Plagues—”

“I _get it,_ angel.”

“Do you?”When he didn’t answer, Aziraphale continued.“Even Hell couldn’t burn it out of you.And they can _no longer try_.Hell is done with you.You’re done with Hell.They can’t dictate your behavior anymore.”

“Being allowed to be yourself—no repercussions,” Susan said.“Is that an uncomfortable thought for you, Crowley?”

His eyes darted back and forth between them.

“Freedom can be an uncomfortable thing.When you’ve been repressing yourself your whole life—your whole _very long_ life, I might add—it’s not easy to suddenly stop.”

“How’m I even meant to know who I am?” he blurted.“ _What_ I am?With—with Hell not looking over my shoulder—”

“You’ve nothing to measure yourself against,” Aziraphale finished.“Yes, I’ve been struggling with that as well.Less severely, I think, but I do catch myself thinking, ‘oh, but Heaven wouldn’t approve.’Quite a lot.”

“It’s a hard transition,” she assured them.“Especially when you’ve spend your life fearing punishment for expressing what comes naturally to you.And, Crowley—it’s clear to _me_ that kindness comes naturally to you.”

He dropped his head to his hands, shoving his fingers through his hair.“A demon—a demon isn’t kind,” he hissed.“Isn’t _nice_.It’s—it’s not in our nature.”

“A demon isn’t meant to love, either, yet here we are,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley tipped his head to the side to look at him.

“And an angel isn’t meant to disobey Heaven.We’ve both been a bit rubbish at being what we’re _meant_ to be.”

Crowley heaved a sigh and flopped back into the cushions.“Never was a proper demon,” he repeated.“But I don’t—I don’t know how else to _be_.”

“Neither do I,” Aziraphale admitted.“If I’m not having to be the angel Heaven wants, then what am I?It’s left me . . . somewhat adrift, if I’m honest.”

“If you could,” Susan ventured, “would you go back to how things were?”

“Oh, goodness, _no_ ,” Aziraphale said just as Crowley spat out “ _Fuck_ no.”

She nodded.“Then I think it’s time to put those old expectations of behavior to rest.If it helps, none of _us_ —humans—know what we’re meant to be.We all have to figure it out as we go.And we often end up being something other than what we’re told we’re _should_ be.”She paused.“You may not be human, but you are permanent residents of Earth now.Maybe . . . maybe it would help to go a little _more_ native—at least in your mindset.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How long were you with the Dowlings?”

“How long were you with the Dowlings?”

“Six years,” Aziraphale said.“From the time he was five until he turned eleven.”

“That’s a long time in the life of a child.”

“Yes.Not so long for us, I suppose, but we did watch him grow.”

“What did you tell him when you left?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat and glanced over at Crowley, wedged into his corner of the sofa with his arms tightly folded.“We . . . we sort of didn’t.We were expecting the Apocalypse to start on his birthday—and it _did_ , just not with Warlock.And the next week was . . . well, it was a mess.What with trying to find the real Antichrist, trying to get Heaven to see reason—”Crowley snorted at this but otherwise remained silent.“—trying to keep both Heaven and Hell from finding us out . . . and then everything finally coming to a head.”He sighed.“And somewhere in there, the Dowlings left England.The life of a diplomat.”

“Have you thought about contacting him?”

“I’m . . . I’m not sure that would be for the best.We’ve probably meddled enough in his life.”

“Do you think it’s _for the best_ for him to lose the two people who raised him for half his life?With no explanation?”

“Well how the heaven are we meant to explain it?” Crowley snapped, finally looking up from the floor.“‘Hi kid, sorry but we’re not the people you thought we were, we’re two supernatural beings who thought you were the Antichrist.Turns out you’re not and we had a world to go save oh and sorry for _lying to you_ for six years’!”

“But you did care for him,” Susan pointed out.“That wasn’t a lie.”

Crowley didn’t answer.

“You’ve always had a soft spot for children—” Aziraphale started.

“What do you want from me?” Crowley growled.“It was an assignment, I’m a demon, I was meant to be turning him evil _how the fuck would I explain that to a kid_?”

“You must miss him.Same as I do.”

“Of course I miss him, Aziraphale!I was his nanny for six years!I drew his bath and tucked him in at night and sang him lullabies!I saw more of him than his miserable parents ever did _of course I miss him_.”

“It can’t be easy to turn your back on a child you helped raise,” Susan said.“It clearly does bother you.”

“It was an assignment.Assignment’s over.On to the next.”

“But there is no ‘next assignment,’” she prodded.“You’re a free agent now.”

“Doesn’t mean I can just pop over and go ‘ _heeeey, miss me_?Sorry about the whole _evil influence_ thing but, y’know, demon.No hard feelings, right?”

Susan sighed.Time to try a different tactic.“You’ve been keeping in touch with those four children in Tadfield, haven’t you?Adam and his friends.”

“Crowley does, mostly,” Aziraphale said.“Through the social medias.”

“Couldn’t that be considered ‘interfering’ in their lives?Except for Adam, they’re all normal children.”

“Well—yes.And we debated over whether we should, even in Adam’s case.He’s quite happy being a normal boy and we didn’t want to damage that.”

“Adam was insistent,” Crowley said.

“So could you reach out to Warlock the same way?You’ve already _interfered_ in his life, you can’t change that—do you really think you would cause more harm than good by continuing to be there for him?”

“But we weren’t _lying_ to those kids for six years.”

“If you look at it one way, you owe him an explanation.At the very least.”

Crowley tightened the fold of his arms and hunkered back into the cushions, while Aziraphale stared down at his hands.

Susan sighed.Sometimes you could only get so far in a session.“Think on it, okay?Really think about what would be for the best, and _why_.For Warlock _and_ for you.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought—I thought maybe I had just forgotten what it was like. Been over six thousand years, and it’s not something I really like to think about. But it wasn’t—it wasn’t that bad back then. They weren’t that bad. Angel—I hadn’t realized just how bad it had gotten.”

“Yeah—yeah, there is something I’d like to talk about.”Crowley was shifting around in his corner of the sofa like he wanted to coil in on himself.He looked so uncomfortable that Susan wasn’t going to bother him about still wearing the shades.“Well it’s—that is—”Several more aborted sounds followed.He finally took a deep breath and said in a rush, “Those times you would deny we’re friends or say there was no Our Side.”

Aziraphale looked pained.“I was dreadful to you.I know. . . .”

But Crowley was shaking his head.“Not why I’m bringing it up, angel.No, it’s—shit.”He pulled the glasses off and shook his head again.“Look, what I wanted to say was—I get it.I get where that was coming from.I mean I think I get it.Not that I’m in your head or anything.But I was thinking about it, and thinking about—I went back up there, remember?”

The significance of that went between the two of them silently.Susan hesitated to ask for clarification, afraid to break whatever roll the demon was on.

“I thought—I thought maybe I had just forgotten what it was like.Been over six thousand years, and it’s not something I really like to think about.But it wasn’t—it wasn’t _that bad_ back then. _They_ weren’t that bad.Angel—I hadn’t realized just how bad it had gotten.”

Aziraphale shifted and refolded his hands.“Well, it’s—it’s a little _stark_ , maybe. . . .”

Again Crowley was shaking his head, but words seemed to be coming in fits and starts.

“Crowley?” Susan ventured.“Maybe you could describe for us.What happened when you went back?”

He stared at Aziraphale, his face pinched with concern.After a long moment he grimaced, and gestured toward her desk.“Turn the monitor around, would you?I’m gonna borrow it.”

“Oh, um . . . sure.”She did so.She was starting to learn when to just roll with things.

“Right.Uh. . . .”Crowley glanced at her.“Guess I should explain that we’d switched bodies.That’s me up there, but _they_ thought they had Aziraphale.”

“Oh—okay.I’ll—keep that in mind.”Rolling with it.

Crowley closed his eyes and concentrated.After a moment he snapped with both hands and pointed at the monitor.

The monitor blinked to life.The screen showed a vast room with floor to ceiling windows, like an exaggeration of a skyscraper dreamed up by Hollywood.In the entire empty, sterile space only two figures were visible, both clad in pastel business suits.

“ _Aziraphale.So glad you could join us_.”

A third figure, the one who’d spoken, walked into view.His smile was as artificial and cold as his surroundings.

What seemed to be Aziraphale’s voice protested, “ _You could have just sent a message.I mean, a kidnapping in broad daylight_.”

And this third figure, in his American accent, replied, “ _Call it what it was:an extraordinary rendition_.”

A fourth figure walked into the room and made a quip about the view.Unlike the others he wasn’t dressed in a business suit.He tipped some sort of container and deposited a column of fire onto the floor, which burned with unnatural intensity.

What followed was an exchange that Susan found downright chilling.

“ _So.With one act of treason, you averted the war_.”

“ _Well, I think the greater good_ —“

“ _Don’t talk to me about the greater good, sunshine.I’m the Archangel fucking Gabriel.The greater good was we were finally going to settle things with the opposition once and for all_.”

The dark skinned angel—for these must be angels—approached, and undid ropes that Susan only now realized had been holding Aziraphale—Crowley—to a chair.“ _Up_.”

Aziraphale/Crowley’s voice again.“ _I don’t suppose I can persuade you to reconsider?We’re meant to be the good guys, for Heaven’s sake_.”

“ _Well, for ‘Heaven’s sake,’ we are meant to make examples out of traitors_.”Gabriel.“ _So—into the flame_.”

“ _Right.Well . . . lovely knowing you all.May we meet on a better occasion_.”

“ _Shut your stupid mouth, and die already_.”

And if she thought the previous smile was sinister in its insincerity, it had nothing on this one.

The monitor flicked off.

“You get the gist,” Crowley said.“I had a bit of fun spouting Hellfire at them, but that’s beside the point.”

There was a lot to process here.But Susan set aside the revelation that Heaven was a cold, empty place with cold, casually cruel angels, and focused on the part she understood best:that one of her clients had been treated appallingly by his superiors.

Or was family a better term?

“That . . . was meant to be an execution, wasn’t it,” she said.

Crowley nodded.“But we’d gotten a bit of a heads up.I’m immune to Hellfire, so. . . .”

“You swapped places.”She turned to Aziraphale.The angel looked grim but, tellingly, not shocked.“Aziraphale?You don’t seem surprised by what you saw.”Not even a trial, just straight to execution.

“I . . . well, that was pretty extreme, of course, extraordinary circumstances and all, but. . . .”He looked down at his hands, still tightly clasped in his lap.“I . . . suppose I’m not.”

“Could you describe some other interactions for us?I’d like to get a complete picture.”

“Well—well, Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon did come down to confront me just as Armageddon was starting. . . .”He went on to relate what sounded more like schoolyard bullying than anything angelic.“But—but they already had cause to be suspicious of me.And—and to be fair I _was_ keeping things from them. . . .”

“Let’s go further back.Can you describe an interaction that you could say was typical?”

“Oh—yes.Yes, of course.”

Aziraphale related several.Times when he had gone in to Heaven to report, and rare times when Gabriel or one of the others had come down to check in with him on Earth.She suspected he was softening things.Even so, the condescending, often patronizing way they treated him came through.One thing that was clear was that his nerves and tension ratcheted up whenever he was around the other angels.Just talking about them now made him tense his posture and clasp his hands tight, clamping down on his usual expressive gestures.And beyond that, there were the stuttering apologies and the hasty way he offered justifications, often by way of self deprecation.

“Aziraphale,” she finally interrupted, trying not to frown outright.“If you were one of my ordinary clients, I would say you’d been living in a very abusive situation.”

“That’s what I didn’t get before,” Crowley said.“At least Hell is honest in its abuse.Easier to spot.”

“Wh— _abuse_?” Aziraphale protested.“Why, Heaven is _strict_ , I’ll grant you, but—but abuse?There’s nothing of the sort—”

“There’s more than one kind of abuse, angel,” Crowley pointed out before she could.“Sometimes it hides behind smiles and pretty words.”

“It’s clear to me that they use emotional abuse—fear tactics, belittling, subtle intimidation, backhanded praise—to exert control,” Susan added.“It’s a common abusive power dynamic.”

Aziraphale shook his head, distressed.“But—it’s _Heaven_.It’s—it’s the _good_ side.That’s—that’s the _point_ , that’s—”He jumped to his feet and paced to the far end of the office, wringing his hands.“That’s not how it’s meant to be.”

Susan took a deep breath.She had her own opinions about the supposed “goodness” of the God of the Bible, but this wasn’t the time.“A lot of abuse had been done in the name of ‘Good,’ at least by humans.From what you’ve described, angels aren’t much different.This whole focus on Armageddon and ‘settling things with the opposition’ is right in line with that kind of thinking.”

“But we’re beings of love!”His short, nervous steps took him across the windows, back to the sofa, and to the windows again.“We’re _made_ of Love.It’s our—our very essence!We’re meant to love, not—not—”His hands jerked into the air, like he was trying to swat away the thing he didn’t want to speak.“This isn’t how it’s meant to be!”

Crowley was on his feet.“There’s different kinds of love, too.Gabriel loves his righteousness.He loves his Great Plan.He loves the _performance_ of holiness—he _loves_ being the Almighty’s top dog.”He stepped to the end of the sofa, an arm’s reach away from where Aziraphale had stopped his pacing.“And maybe he loves the world, and humanity, but only as a tool to get him the most winning pieces.He loves the game of it, they all do.See who can collect the most souls.”

Aziraphale was shaking his head, his lips pressed together.

“He doesn’t have any use for a love that’s individual, or personal.”Crowley put a hand on his shoulder.“For a love that wanted to _avoid_ the war.To keep the individuals from suffering.He doesn’t even _see_ that kind of thing.What he wanted—what he _loved_ —was the final tally.”

Aziraphale was on the edge of crumpling.He screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head one more time.“This is _not_ —”His arms jerked up.One of them struck Crowley’s forearm, but the demon simply moved out of the way and then brought his hand back.“Not how it’s. . . .”He buried his face in his hands as his voice waned.“Not how it’s meant to be. . . .”

Crowley took him by the shoulders and stepped close.“No.No it isn’t.It’s not what _any of us_ were led to believe.”

Aziraphale leaned toward him, and the two of them leaned against each other for a moment until Crowley pulled him into a proper embrace.They moved awkwardly, as if this kind of physical expression was new to them.

Susan looked down to give them some privacy, blinking hard.

A soft rustling made her look back up, and she was startled to see Crowley’s wings.He had them wrapped around them, shielding the angel from view.She watched as Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him and buried his fingers in the fine feathers at the base.

She found herself staring at the glossy wings that by all logic and reason should not exist, and yet seemed so . . . natural and normal.They weren’t truly black; she kept seeing an iridescent shimmer of color out of the corner of her eye.How odd to think that something so beautiful could be associated with something called “demon”—but then, most of what she’d thought she’d known about angels and demons has had to be thrown out.

A quiet sob snapped her out of her thoughts.Aziraphale’s arms were trembling there against Crowley’s back.She looked away, busying herself with her notes to give them as much time as they needed.

The quiet sniffles and sobs eventually reached a peak, then tapered off.Susan glanced up once more and found that Aziraphale’s arms had relaxed enough for one hand to be slowly stroking through the dark feathers.

“You’re better than all of them,” Crowley hissed.“Better than the lot of ’em combined.”

“How is it—”Aziraphale hiccuped, and tried again.“How is it that a _demon_ has more love than all of the Archangels—oh don’t make a fuss, dear boy.You know it to be true.”

If it hadn’t been for the sudden rustle of feathers she might have missed the tension that shot through Crowley at the compliment.She didn’t miss the harsh sigh, or the way he readjusted his wings back into a tight embrace.“Old habits, angel.”

Aziraphale laughed, soggy but genuine.

He clung to the demon a moment more, then pulled back.“Oh—goodness.I’m a right mess.”

Crowley kept his wings up, granting some privacy while Aziraphale mopped his face and straightened his clothing.A remarkably sweet gesture from a demon who, not that long ago, insisted he couldn’t be “nice.”

“Oh, just _look_ what I’ve done to your jacket—ah.Very good.”

Susan couldn’t quite see the gesture Crowley had made, but it seemed to have taken care of the mess in question.

“Thank you, dear.I’m—I’m all right now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes . . . thank you.”

She was momentarily distracted when Crowley spread out his wings—as much as he could in the small office—and made a show of folding them against his back.And then—the wings were gone.

Susan blinked.

It only then occurred to her to wonder how they’d gone through his clothes.

“None of this excuses the awful things I’ve said to you.”

Crowley made an indistinct noise.“But I get why you said them.”

They returned to the sofa, settling in their customary spots.“Dreadfully sorry about this—”

Susan was shaking her head.“No, no—that’s why we’re here.”

Aziraphale carefully folded his hands in his lap, a white handkerchief crumpled between them“I don’t . . . I don’t know how I never saw it. . . .”

“It can be hard to see while you’re in the middle of it,” she assured him.“Especially if it’s all you’ve ever known.This was your ‘normal,’ after all.It can take some distance—or an outside perspective.”

“Crowley’s right that things . . . weren’t _always_ this way.Way back.But so _many_ things were different then.No world, no humanity—no Hell, even.Only Heaven.Everything was new.Back— _before_.”He glanced over at Crowley, who grimaced.

“Yeah, things were different.”Crowley’s voice was tight.“No Enemy, for one.Sides hadn’t been invented yet.”

“Things got . . . stricter,” Aziraphale continued.“They . . . they had reason, of course.They had their reasons.”

“Reasons?” she prodded.“Or excuses?Because in my experience, it’s usually the latter.”

“I . . . I’m not sure.”His gaze dropped to his hands.“I’m not sure of anything right now.”He closed his eyes for a moment.When he opened them again some of his distress had softened.“Well . . . no.I am _very_ sure of one thing.”

Aziraphale turned, waiting until the demon met his eye.“Crowley . . . you’ve been there for me for six thousand years.You’ve been—you’ve been the _only_ one I could always count on.”He dropped his eyes, fussing with the handkerchief in his lap.“And in return, I’ve—I’ve—”

“Angel—”

“No—please.This needs to be said.”He took a deep breath and raised his eyes.“I’ve _hurt_ you, Crowley.I know I have.Denied you and pushed you away, and thrown things in your face that—that I _knew_ would hurt.”He swallowed, and something close to a smile flickered at the edge of his mouth.“It seems you understand my actions better than I do.But—but there’s no excuse for it.I was dreadful to you.I—I don’t _want_ to excuse it, it was wrong of me.Crowley—I was wrong.All those times.And I’m sorry.I’m _ever_ so sorry.”

Crowley looked like he was keeping from crying only through force of will.His jaw worked but no sounds came out.He finally nodded, lips pressed together and yellow eyes bright.

She gave them a moment.

Eventually, she had to prod.It was her job, after all.“Aziraphale—when you say things got stricter.That things changed.Would you say this was an abrupt change, or gradual?”

“Well . . . well, I suppose it was both.”Aziraphale fiddled with the handkerchief again.“Certain changes happened right after the—the rebellion.More rules, stricter adherence—no questioning orders.We—we weren’t meant to question at all.”

Crowley scoffed at that.

“But it was . . . oh, it was so long ago.But—but I remember Gabriel being distressed over losing so many to the Fall.Michael as well.”

“There was always something off about Sandalphon,” Crowley piped up, finally finding his voice.“Uriel I never knew well.Gabriel. . . .” He shrugged, the movement tight.“He was always a stickler but he had a warmth to him then.From what I remember.Michael too.S’why I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten up there.I hadn’t known how bad _they_ had gotten.”

“That . . . that much was gradual,” Aziraphale said.“So much that I never—never really noticed it happening.I don’t quite know when they—when Heaven—got so . . . cold.”

“Gabriel wasn’t top dog before.For one thing.I think it went to his head.”

“When you say ‘stricter,’” Susan said, “it sounds like there was a lot of fear involved.”

“Well, almost half our ranks had just . . . Fallen.”Aziraphale stared down at his hands.“We had all lost siblings to—to the rebellion.No one knew if such a thing could happen again.”

“Was the threat of Falling held over you?”

“It was never stated directly.But the possibility was always . . . there.Angels weren’t meant to disobey.Weren’t meant to—to stray from the Plan.Weren’t meant to question.We had all seen what happened to those who did.”

“Was Falling the only potential repercussion?”

“Oh—no.Not at all.I could always be reassigned, transferred back up to Heaven—I nearly was at one point, even if Gabriel _called_ it a ‘promotion’—or demoted.I’m not sure if that last was ever actually carried out but we were all aware of the possibility.”

“So they demand unquestioning obedience, and use fear to keep everyone in line.And it’s clear that they think execution without a trial is justifiable.”Susan shook her head.“Maybe I’m out of line here, but this sounds like a fascist system.”

“Yes!” Crowley cried out.“That’s the term I couldn’t think of!They’ve gone all fascist up there.”

Aziraphale stared at him in open mouthed shock.His hands were clasped so tight they were shaking.“. . . Oh my.”His voice was barely audible.His focus drifted away, staring off into the middle distance.“Oh—oh dear.I . . . oh my.”

Crowley lifted a hand, dropped it, then changed his mind again and tentatively reached over, his fingers just brushing against Aziraphale’s knuckles.“Angel?”

He flashed him a smile.“I’m all right, dear.I just. . . .”He swallowed.“I . . . I want to argue.I want to defend Heaven.It’s—it’s _Heaven,_ for—someone’s sake.I feel I _should_ defend it.It’s—it’s—”

“Not how it’s meant to be,” Crowley supplied.

Aziraphale nodded.

He unlaced his fingers and turned one trembling hand, and Crowley’s hand slid into his, squeezing tight.

“I want . . . no.I feel like I _should_ defend it.But I—I can’t.I just can’t, not anymore.It seems. . . .”Aziraphale bit his lip.“It seems things . . . it seems _Heaven_ . . . is not what I thought it was.It seems I need to rethink . . . everything.Every assumption I’ve ever made.Every—well, _everything_ I’ve ever taken for granted.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well I don’t like them!” Crowley exploded. “I bloody hate them! They’re the thing I can’t get rid of—well, them and the snake mark.” He waggled a finger toward his right ear. “But that just looks like a tattoo. Not so easy to explain slitted eyes."

“I understand why you wear them in public, of course, but you hardly take them off even when it’s just the two of us.I all but have to get you drunk just to see your eyes.”

“It’s just—I’m more comfortable with them on.Why’s it matter?”

Crowley certainly didn’t look comfortable now, aggressively pressed into the corner of the sofa with one hand clenched around the upholstered arm.He was looking like he really regretted taking the shades off at the beginning of the session.

“But why is that, Crowley?” Susan pressed.“Is it just about blending in?”When he didn’t answer, she added,“You realize that nowadays everyone will just assume you’re wearing costume contacts.”

“And that hardly matters when we’re alone,” Aziraphale said.“I miss seeing your eyes.I wish you would—”

“Well _I_ don’t like them!” Crowley exploded.“I bloody hate them!They’re the thing I can’t get rid of—well, them and the snake mark.”He waggled a finger toward his right ear.“But that just looks like a tattoo.Not so easy to explain _slitted eyes_.Sure, _nowadays_ people assume I’m some edgy goth who never put away his Halloween costume, but that’s only been in, what, the last handful of decades?For thousands of years the best I could do was make someone _forget_ or _not notice_.And back then when people saw they knew _exactly_ what I was.It’s bloody exhausting!The invention of dark glasses was a blessing and I _don’t_ use that term lightly.”

“Crowley. . . .”

“But that’s the point, isn’t it?” he barreled on.“The mark of the Fallen.We can’t ever look fully human.Can’t ever _blend in_ , not like angels can.Supposed to hamper us.Make Evil easier to spot—not that humans bloody well pay attention.Not that they _need our help_ , either!Humans get up to plenty of evil all on their own.”He threw up his hands.“But I’ll never stop being a serpent. _The_ Serpent.The Original Tempter.”

“Crowley, I had no idea. . . .”

“What, that I didn’t like my little reminder of being cast out?”He sighed, rubbing his eyes.“Yeah, I wanted to keep it that way, angel.”

“What?”

“You’ve . . . you’ve never shied away from me.”Crowley voice sounded strangled.“Even that first time.When I crawled up next to you on the wall.You’ve never acted like I was something to be feared or something repulsive.”

“Well of course not—”

“No!No, there is no _of course_ here!I’ve run across other angels every now and then over the years.Lower ranks, usually.They look at me with _revulsion_ , all of them.All they see is ‘demon.’Usually try with the smiting.But you—”He let out a high pitched laugh.“I can throw you against a wall and snarl in your face and you don’t even have the decency to look _intimidated_.”

“Crowley, I’ve known you for more than six thousand years, I know _exactly_ how dangerous you can be, and I damn well know when you’re all bark and no bite.”

“But that’s what I mean!I’m not ‘ _a demon_ ’ to you—never have been!Even when your _words_ were trying to remind me of that, it always rang hollow because you never _acted_ like I was beneath you!”

Aziraphale looked like he might protest that last bit and Crowley rolled his eyes.

“Heaven and Hell?”He gestured.“The whole _Falling_ thing?I am _literally_ beneath you, angel, that’s the whole deal.And I know you know that.”

“Well—well, leaving that aside, it’s not as if seeing your eyes is going to change anything.Your eyes were fully serpent when we met and they were lovely, and I _still_ think they’re lovely.”

“No—I know you wouldn’t, that not—look, it’s stupid.”

“None of this is ‘stupid,’ Crowley,” Susan interrupted.“It clearly bothers you a great deal.You use the shades as a barrier.It gives you some sense of security to be able to control that piece of your life—a piece you don’t like.Would you say that’s accurate?”

“I . . . yeah.”He had his arms folded now, scrunched back into the corner of the sofa.“Guess you could say that.”

“Oh, dearest, I never realized.”Aziraphale lifted a hand. It looked like he started to reach for the demon’s cheek but thought better of it, and let his hand land on his shoulder instead.“To me they’re just lovely, and I love seeing them.I know they affect your vision but I never thought . . . I never really thought about what they might mean to you.”

Crowley’s tense posture uncoiled just the tiniest bit at the touch.“Didn’t want you to. _I_ don’t like thinking about them.”

“Does it bother you when I call you a serpent?I’ve never meant it as anything negative.”

“Nah . . . not really.I mean, if I’m stuck with this whole snake thing I might as well own it.”

“It sounds like ‘serpent’ wasn’t any sort of choice you made,” Susan remarked.

“Nope.Dunno if that was the Almighty or Satan or what, but the beast thing just sort of happened to us.”Then he added, with palpable bitterness,“Maybe we just became the thing that suited us best.”

“Maybe you did,” she mused.“Have you ever looked up snake symbolism?Aside from whatever you may have personally inspired, I mean.”

“No?” he said in a tone that clearly meant _why would I_?

She gave him a small smile.“You might be surprised by what you find.You can find snake symbolism all over the world, and believe it or not, most of it is positive—or at least not negative.Snakes are widely associated with things like change and rebirth, reinvention—they’re seen as transforming themselves when they shed their skin.In some places the way they hibernate in the winter and come back out of the ground in spring is also seen as a rebirth.They’re not associated with evil—not _pure_ evil.They’re about dualities—good _and_ evil.Male and female.Healing and poison—you still see the snake-and-staff motif in modern medicine.”

“Ah yes, the Rod of Asclepius,” Aziraphale added.“I sometimes wondered if you’d had anything to do with that catching on.”

Crowley shook his head.He was looking stunned.

“Reinvention, duality—my dear, maybe you _did_ become a serpent for a reason.You did spend a great deal of time doing the work of both an angel and a demon.Reinvented your entire job.And mine too, for that matter.”

“Rebirth and transformation seem pretty apt, too,” Susan said.“How many other demons have _retired_ from being demons?”

“Well.There we have it.”

“And besides.”Susan wasn’t sure what prompted her to add this, except that maybe it was time for a bit of levity.“As my wife likes to say, snakes are adorable noodles.”

Crowley jolted.“Ador—”Then when Aziraphale started giggling, “Oh, don’t even think about it.Don’t you dare—”

“Well, you can be pretty adorable.”

“I’m not—no.No you don’t—oy, I’m still a demon, we are not _adorable_.”

“Yes, dear.”

Susan wondered how long it would be before “noodle” came up as a pet name.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What I don’t get,” Crowley was saying, “is you’re an angel, you can sense love. You could sense it all over Tadfield. How come you never. . . .”

“What I don’t get,” Crowley was saying, “is you’re an angel, you can sense love.You could sense it all over Tadfield.How come you never. . . .”

“Why did I never sense yours?” Aziraphale finished for him.“Well I—I always did.But that’s just it:I _always_ did.It was . . . it was just part of the atmosphere whenever you were around.”

“You _always_ did—?”

“It’s rather like being constantly bathed in your favorite perfume.”He dropped his eyes.“Perhaps that’s why it took me far too long to recognize it.Even longer to admit it.But you see—we were told that demons . . . couldn’t.”He glanced up, contrite.“I know it’s terribly unfair.Terribly _unkind_.But it’s what we were told.So I kept thinking . . . I thought I _had_ to be wrong.I had to be sensing something else.”In a quieter tone, he added, “I’m so sorry, dear.”

“No . . . we were told the same thing.”Crowley sounded reflective.“We were told Love got torn out of us, along with—” he gestured.“Divine Light and all that.Easy enough to believe when one day you feel Love everywhere and the next you’re blind and deaf to it.”

“Oh, that must have been _horrible_.”

Crowley shrugged and said in a rush, “One horrible thing among many.Anyway—there’s not much to love down there so I didn’t think to question it.Not at first.”

“When did you realize they were wrong?” Susan prompted.

Crowley glanced at her, fingers twitching against the arm of the sofa.“Well . . . the Garden.I was up there for a couple days, you know.Had to figure out how best to cause trouble with the Almighty’s new playground.But being up there, feeling the sun on my scales, tasting air that wasn’t vile . . . it made me remember what pleasant things felt like.”He glanced over at Aziraphale.“And then I saw this angel chatting with God’s prize creations.Actually _chatting_ with them—none of the other angel guards did that.They kept themselves all distant and aloof—that made it stupid easy for me, by the way,” he added.“None of you was ever down there long enough to sense a demonic presence.”

“I wish I could have told Head Office that,” Aziraphale commented.“I got chided for going down into the Garden so much.”

“I know, I heard you telling Eve.But that’s why I came up beside you after that whole mess—you actually seemed to care about those two.Not just as the Almighty’s pet project.And then you told me you gave them your sword—”He glanced away and shrugged, fingers busy picking at the upholstery.

“So that’s when you realized?” Susan asked.“That you were still capable of love?”

He nodded, eyes still on the floor.“That’s when it started.I couldn’t _sense_ Love around me anymore, but I remembered the feeling.And by the time I crawled down from that wall. . . .”He shrugged again.“Silly thing, really.”

“Not really.I fell in love with my wife over a spilled milkshake.Most of our friends have similar stories.‘Silly little things’ is fairly standard.”

“No wonder I _always_ felt it,” Aziraphale murmured.“I’m so sorry it took me so long to acknowledge it.”

“What _did_ finally clue you in, angel?”

“You mean what finally broke through my denial?The books.”

Crowley finally glanced up.“The what?”

“During the Blitz.You saved my books.”

“The _books_?I save you from the embarrassment and paperwork of being discorporated—messily, I might add—and it’s the _books_ that convinced you?”

“Well helping _me_ was part of our Arrangement.‘Lend a hand.’It was too easy to convince myself that you were helping me because you got something out of it, even if it was just that you didn’t want the hassle of dealing with my replacement.But you had no reason to save the books except that you knew I’d be upset otherwise.And you never once brought it up afterwards.Never tried to get something out of that little favor.”

“The bloody _books_.”

“Seeing you run onto consecrated ground like that just to save me from embarrassment might have also had something to do with it.I hadn’t been sure our Arrangement still stood after that row we’d had.”

“I wasn’t doing it because of the Arrangement.”

“I know that now.”

“You’ve talked about being ‘discorporated’ a number of times now,” Susan said.“Do you mind if I ask—?”

“Oh—our physical bodies—our _corporations_ —are just as vulnerable to injury as yours is,” Aziraphale explained.“But we—our ethereal selves—don’t die.So for us, an injury too severe to heal means a mountain of paperwork and a wait time while they issue us a new body.”

“So more like . . . crashing the company car.”

“It can make moving around on Earth quite a bit harder in the meantime.Can’t really interact with the physical plane all that well.”

“It’s not very pleasant, either,” Crowley added.“The whole fatal wound thing.”He turned back to Aziraphale.“Heaven really told you that?I expect Hell to lie, it’s part of the deal, but the Almighty?Not really Her style.”

“Well it wasn’t the Almighty.It was the Archangels.Gabriel, mostly, if I recall.”

“Oh.Well, that makes more sense.”

“I think he made an assumption.”

“Or he was being a prick.”

“This isn’t really relevant to anything,” Susan said, “but I find it interesting that you refer to God as female.”She could think of a number of churches that would go into fits over that little detail.

“Oh—well, God is all genders.”

“Yes, but to us, first and foremost, She’s our Mother,” Aziraphale added.“So in human languages, ‘She.’”

“Human languages are so gendered, it’s really ridiculous.”

“Our language only has one pronoun.With the Almighty being all genders and angels being none, there wasn’t ever a need for more than the one.”

“Tidier that way.”

“You mentioned a row that put your Arrangement on shaky ground,” Susan said, bringing things back on track.“What was that about?”

“Ah.That.”Aziraphale shifted and refolded his hands.“Eighteen sixty-two.Right in the middle of St James’s Park.After that we didn’t speak for, oh, nearly eighty years?”

“Oh.Wow.”

“That wouldn’t have been unusual early in our acquaintance, but by then we were in the habit of meeting, oh, every few years or so?Several times a decade, anyway.Except for that nap you took.”

“What was the fight about?”

Crowley sighed with a fair amount of growl.“I’d asked him for something.A favor.A _big_ favor.”

“Something _extremely_ dangerous,” Aziraphale chimed in.

“Of course it was dangerous, I wanted it for insurance.Protection.From. . . .” He jabbed a finger at the floor.

“Oh—oh!” Susan exclaimed.“That means it would be just as dangerous to _you_ as—as the people you wanted to use it against.”

“Yeah, it was a bit dicey, but I needed it.They damn near found me out after Paris!I knew I was on borrowed time.”

“They—Crowley, you never told me that!”

“Well, I—tried.Sort of.”Crowley ran a hand through his hair.“I—hinted.”

“Well I—”He paused, his face going through a complex of emotions.“I never let you, did I.Rather over reacted.”

The noise Crowley made was a pretty clear _ya think_?

“I panicked,” Aziraphale explained to her. “I couldn’t admit how dear he was to me, the very thought frightened me.But the thought that I might lose him—by his own hand, no less!I . . . panicked.Said some things I regret.”

“I . . . could have explained it better.”

“I could have _let_ you.”He sighed.“It hadn’t helped matters that Heaven had been leaning on me around that same time.Gabriel had relented and let me remain on Earth, but after a while I got the sense that he wasn’t at all happy about it.”

“He wanted you to leave Earth?” Susan asked.

“Yes.A ‘promotion,’ supposedly.A transfer to a position back in Heaven.He couldn’t understand why I wasn’t overjoyed.I’m still not sure what made him suddenly change his mind.”

Crowley sniggered.“I still can’t believe that worked.Gabriel’s an idiot.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.“Believe _what_ worked, exactly?Dear?”

“Oh don’t go getting suspicious.I just put on a little play for his audience of one while he was at the tailor’s.A little scene about how I kept being _thwarted_ by ‘Heaven’s champion here on Earth’—it was all very slapdash.But I guess he bought it.”

Aziraphale giggled.“You wily old serpent.That’s one I didn’t even know I owed you.”

Susan cleared her throat.“Getting back to point—you said Gabriel didn’t seem happy about letting you stay on Earth?”

“Oh, he never seemed . . . _dis_ pleased, exactly,” Aziraphale clarified.“It was more that . . . he couldn’t fathom why I could possibly want to stay.I found myself under greater scrutiny for a while and kept getting the sense that I had to justify my continued presence here on Earth.It was as if the threat of being transferred away was constantly looming over my shoulder.It left me on edge for decades.”He glanced at Crowley.“I’m afraid that may have had something to do with how snappish I got.”

“And then?” Susan prompted.“No contact for nearly eighty years?”

“None.I couldn’t think how to.”He looked over to Crowley again.“I thought about you often.Especially during the Great War.I couldn’t help but wonder which side Hell was having you influence.”

“That’s one that didn’t need any help from us,” Crowley said.“Demons took advantage of both sides once it got going, but you know no one down there’s clever enough for anything that large scale.They’re still trying to corrupt souls one by one.I was just going about building networks, mostly.Humans did all the heavy lifting on both those wars themselves—you do know that half the time I never even sent in any memos to Head Office.They just assume that anything sufficiently _evil_ must’ve been a demon’s work and I would be the only one in the area.”

“I had wondered if that was the case.”

“When was the next time you saw each other?” Susan asked.

“Oh—the Blitz,” Aziraphale said.“The incident with the books I mentioned.”

“Nineteen forty-one,” Crowley added.“ _This_ idiot tried to do some espionage and got in over his head.”

“Ah . . . yes.I rather did.Which reminds me, dear, I’ve wanted to ask:had you been keeping tabs on me?”

“Of course I was!That wasn’t the first time you’d gotten yourself into trouble, angel.”

“The entire eight decades, or just. . . .”

“What d’you think.”

“It sounds like a rather dramatic reunion,” Susan said.

“Bombs, Nazi spies, a couple of miracles—it _was_ rather dramatic,” Aziraphale confirmed.“But it did a nice job of putting us back on an even footing.”

“So you had a big fight, didn’t speak for eighty years, and then the next time you meet is the incident with the books that you said ‘broke through your denial.’”

“Well . . . yes.”He smiled at Crowley.“That’s when I finally realized—finally _admitted_ —that this was not some long, elaborate demonic game.When I finally admitted to myself that what I sensed—what I had _always_ sensed—was indeed love.”He sighed.“Unfortunately, things were still . . . complicated.”

“You mean with your respective . . . _positions_ being what they were.”

“‘Hereditary enemies,’” Crowley drawled.

“Yes . . . that.”Aziraphale grimaced.“I’m ashamed to say that knowing how you felt made me try to push you away even more.It simply wasn’t safe.Not for me but _especially_ not for you.”

“Well once I was sure of how _you_ felt I wasn’t going to make that easy.”

“And when was that, Crowley?” Susan prompted.

“Well . . . it was complicated, because angels love everything.At least _that_ one does.I can’t _sense_ love anymore, so it was too easy to think I just fell under his general affection for the world.”

“But . . .?”

“Nineteen sixty-seven.”

The year didn’t meant anything to her, but it clearly had significance for Aziraphale.She considered asking for clarification, but decided that could wait for another time.“It does strike me,” she said instead.“That this is awfully late in your acquaintance.Thousands of years late.”

“Yeah, well.”Crowley hadn’t looked away from Aziraphale.“Things were complicated.”

Susan huffed a laugh.“That’s an understatement.But that’s _six thousand years_ of having one particular dynamic, and less than a century of being sure of your feelings for each other.And uh . . . how long has it been since the whole Apocalypse thing and your, ummm, _retirement_?”

“. . . Ten months or so?”

“Ten months.That’s _ten months_ fighting against six thousand years.That’s a lot of ingrained behaviors and established dynamics to fight against.”She lifted a hand.“No wonder things have been ‘awkward.’”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My plants?” Crowley said. “What about my plants?”

“My plants?” Crowley said.“What about my plants?”

“The poor things are terrified!”

Susan had accepted by now that the regular rules just didn’t apply, but she still had to bite her tongue to keep from asking how _plants_ could feel any emotion, let alone terror.

“They need discipline.”Crowley said this as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.“Can’t let them get complacent or they get sloppy.Don’t grow right.”

“But you _terrorize them_.The emotion in that room is overwhelming.I noticed it the first time I was in your flat, of course, but we had so much on our minds with the prophecy and all—”

“See if I ever have you over again,” Crowley grumbled.It didn’t sound serious but there was _something_ behind it.

“Care to explain?” Susan interrupted.“Either of you?”

“I can tell you what I saw, and what I felt.” Aziraphale’s voice was tight.“Crowley’s houseplants are exceptionally beautiful, but it’s because they’re terrified that if they have the least flaw, he’ll—he’ll _destroy_ them.”

“That sounds . . . pretty extreme.”

“They need discipline,” Crowley insisted.

“‘Discipline’?That’s not discipline, that’s abuse.Even if it’s just to houseplants.”Houseplants that could feel emotion and understand threats, apparently.

“It can’t be healthy,” Aziraphale said.“That’s not who you really are, I know it isn’t.”

“I’m a bloody _demon_ , Aziraphale.”

“A demon I’ve known for _six thousand years_ , who gets upset when children come to harm, who miracles paintball guns into real weapons but makes sure no one is hit by so much as a ricochet—”

“Sssstill a _fucking demon_.”

“A demon who acts out abuse on plants because he can’t bring himself to act out on anything more sapient?” Susan said.“Because that’s what this sounds like.Acting out a learned pattern of abuse.Replaying trauma.”

Crowley was staring at her, his jaw tense.His eyes had gone fully serpentine, and if she hadn’t been sitting across from him for months now she might have been alarmed.But she liked to think she had a pretty good read on him by now and Aziraphale was right, demon or not, _violent_ wasn’t who Crowley was.

“You said previously that ‘Hell is more honest in its abuse,’” she barreled on.“Is that what this is in response to?Abuse from Hell?Other demons?”

Crowley shot to his feet and paced to the far end of the room.

“I know you can’t have had an easy time of it, Hell is dreadful,” Aziraphale said.“But taking it out on the poor plants—”

Crowley jerked one arm up and snapped.Then snapped again.Then again.Susan was just starting to glance around the office to figure out what he’d done when he shoved his hands into his hair, threw his head back, and screamed.

The cry came from something beyond his physical body; it shook the entire room and made the air feel like pitch.Hearing it made her want to curl in on herself in some dark corner and never leave.All she could do was grip the edge of her chair and try to ride it out.

It cut off as abruptly as it had started.Crowley took several sharp, hissing breaths, his back to them.“I only ever asked questions,” he rasped out.“That’sss all it took.I assssked quesstionsss and for that Sshe casst me out.Angels must be perfect and I asssked too many questions and She cassst me out.”

He raked his fingers down the sides of his face, leaving deep gouges in their wake.Thick black blood oozed out, dripping down his cheeks and fingers.

Aziraphale was immediately on his feet and prying Crowley’s hands away.That’s when she saw that the demon’s normally nondescript nails were now long, black, and dangerously sharp.

Crowley let himself be turned and pulled away from the wall, but then he stumbled.He dropped to his knees and then fell to one hip, striking the side of the sofa.He huddled there, gripping Aziraphale’s hands.The angel had knelt down with him, unflinching as the claw-like nails dug into his skin.Bright red, shimmery blood welled up from the punctures, mixing with the black blood and sliding down his palms.

“All I did wasss ask questionsss,” Crowley hissed.“The wrong people listened but it was only questions.I never wanted—I never meant—didn’t matter.I went down with the rest.”

His pupils had constricted to the narrowest slits.Whatever he was seeing, it wasn’t them.Inhuman blood continued to ooze from his cheeks and drip down his jaw.

“Then—and _then_ —first thing that happened is everyone turned on each other.No chance to grieve, no chance to even fully realize—everyone just turned and took it out on each other.Or enough did that you had to fight back or you’d get torn apart.Can’t crawl off somewhere and have your own private breakdown, no, they’d find you and tear you apart.”

Crowley pressed back against the sofa and drew his knees up.He was gripping Aziraphale’s hands so hard that both their hands were shaking.“Went on for—for—dunno.Time didn’t mean much yet.But it went on—and on.Can’t seem too weak, ’cause then you’re a target.Can’t be too strong, ’cause then you’re a threat.Had to establish a new pecking order and they did it with tooth and claw.Tear down power to gain power.Grind the weak beneath your feet.”He drew in a breath.“We’d all forgotten each other.Forgotten who anyone else had been _up there_.Just like we’d all been forgotten by Heaven.Nameless.Nobodies.Had to establish a pecking order from scratch and you couldn’t just opt out, couldn’t just say ‘you guys go on and sort all that out, I _don’t fucking care_.’They’d just drag you back in and tear you apart.Keep tearing you apart.Tear you apart until you finally fought back, started tearing into them.”

He took several thin breaths.“Best you can do.Best you can do is claw out a spot in the middle and keep your head down.Not too strong, not too weak.Too strong to be a target, too weak to be a threat.Have to get it just right.Just right!Because if you slip up—if you slip up—”

Crowley sobbed.“Have to get it perfect.Absolutely perfect!Play up to their standards, perform for us like a good little demon.Make it look good and hope they never look too close.Got cast out for not being perfect and I still have to play it all _so fucking perfect_ because if I _slip up_ —”

He sobbed again, gagged on a breath and sobbed.

Aziraphale looked like he wanted nothing more than to pull this demon into his arms and hide him away from the world.“Oh Crowley. . . .”

Crowley blinked, and finally focused on him.Then he snatched his hands away, horrified.

Aziraphale brushed his palms together, and a moment later both puncture wounds and blood were gone.

“How—how can a perfect being like you,” Crowley whispered, “love something as flawed as me.”

The sound Aziraphale made couldn’t quite be called a laugh.“You think _I’m_ perfect?”

“Still an angel.”

“I’m a sorry excuse for one, by _their_ measure.You know I am.”

He reached out and stroked first one bloodied cheek and then the other.Crowley flinched, hissing, but the rends in his flesh started to knit back together. The black blood dissolved into the air as he wiped it away.

“Oh, my dear.I don’t want you perfect.I want you as you are.”Aziraphale cupped his face.“I _want_ the Crowley who asks the hard questions, even when I don’t want to hear them.I want the Crowley who rages against the Almighty when I’m too afraid to.”

Crowley’s hands trembled as he touched Aziraphale’s wrists.His nails had shrunk back down to their normal, harmless length.

“I want the Crowley who secreted children onboard the Ark, and spirited them out of Sodom and Gomorrah, when my hands were tied.Who criticized the Plagues and thought banishment was too harsh for a first offense.Who loves the world so damn much that he chose to defy both Heaven and Hell to save it.”

Crowley relaxed enough to lower his knees to the floor and lean into the angel’s touch.Aziraphale met him, resting their foreheads together.

“I want the Crowley who pushed me to be a _better_ angel, when all Heaven wanted was an obedient one.I want you _as you are_ , you wily old serpent.I _love you_ just as you are.”

The next sob was quiet.Crowley screwed his eyes shut and huddled into Aziraphale’s hands.

“Oh, dearest.”He caressed his cheek with a thumb.“My dear, dear demon.You’ve had to do such a balancing act for so, so long.Tamping yourself down to keep yourself safe . . . always afraid of slipping up. . . .”He pressed a kiss to the bright auburn hair and then leaned there, murmuring endearments.Crowley sniffled and sobbed into his hands.

“Forgetting each other may have ultimately been a blessing,” Aziraphale mused at one point.“Hell never would have let you be if they even suspected you’d been anything more than a middling angel. . . .”

Crowley drew back, his eyes wide with shock.And maybe a bit of fear.

“Dear?” Aziraphale studied him with concern.“Did you think I hadn’t . . .?”

The small shake of his head looked more like denial than an answer.

“Crowley . . . only seraphim and Archangels can control time.And the ease you have freezing it . . . oh.You—you didn’t realize—?”

“No!” came Crowley’s strangled reply.“I didn’t!I needed it in the field, for the work I did—I never paid attention to who else could or couldn’t!Not much call for it back in the office, so no one—you mean my little time freezes _gave me away_?”

“I’m afraid so,” Aziraphale confirmed.“Oh dear—it’s a good thing you’re just naturally cautious.You must not have ever frozen time where another demon would notice.Or angel, for that matter.”

“I’m—I’m pretty sure you’re the only one I’ve ever frozen time for, angel.”

“Well.”He gave him a small smile.“How romantic.”

Crowley burst out laughing, falling forward onto Aziraphale’s shoulder.“‘Romantic’—ssshit.Well—if I had to get sloppy, at least I picked the right person to get sloppy around.”

“Mm.”He held him tight.“Although—if anyone was watching at the airbase—”

“ _Nggk_ —we were fucked anyway.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he said as he rubbed his back.“Hell has written you off, remember?Gone native.Not one of them anymore.You don’t have to try to be _perfect_ anymore.”

Crowley heaved a sigh.

“If I may?”Susan was hesitant to break in, but some things needed to be said.“If angels were created as perfect beings, then why was there a Fall?How could perfect beings suddenly become imperfect?”

They both stared at her.

“You know,” Aziraphale finally said, “I’ve wanted to ask that since—well, since it happened.I could never bring myself to put it into words.”

The sounds Crowley was making never quite resolved into anything coherent.

“And second. . . .”She pushed her glasses up and rubbed her nose.“This—this is probably blasphemous, but—fuck it.If a creation is imperfect, that’s the fault of the Creator.A creation can’t be blamed for how it was made.”

Crowley made a strangled noise.“. . . Fuck.We weren’t—we were _never_ perfect,” he said, tasting each world.“None of us.She—She _didn’t make us_ perfect.”

“Not one of us,” Aziraphale agreed.“No demon _or_ angel.Not a one of us was ever perfect.”

Crowley huffed.“I—I want to shove that in Gabriel’s smug, prick face.”

“You’ll have to stand in the queue, dear.”Aziraphale stood and held his hand out.When Crowley took it he pulled him up as if he was weightless.“Ah.Sorry, my dear.I forget how slight you are.”

Crowley snorted with amusement as he stumbled to his feet.“Sure, angel.”

“We’ve covered a lot of ground today,” Susan said as they returned to the sofa.“But I have to stress, Crowley—this thing with the plants?Not healthy, and really not helping you deal with any of this.”

Crowley grimaced.After several false starts, he grumbled out, “Yeah, I—I guess.”

“If you want, we can table that for a later session.Today has been. . . .”she took a deep breath.“Today has been a lot.”

Crowley took a few moments to collect himself and make sure he was presentable.He relaxed considerably once he had his shades back on.

As they were getting up to leave, he said to Aziraphale, “So you knew about the kids, huh?”

“Of course I did.I don’t think anyone else noticed at Sodom and Gomorrah—Sandalphon was making too much of a spectacle—but the flood?You didn’t think a dozen children still alive when the waters receded would go unnoticed, did you?”

“Well no one came down to smite us, so I kinda thought it had!”

“Gabriel was in favor of it.He thankfully decided that since he _didn’t know_ how the children had survived, it _might_ have been part of the Great Plan, and he couldn’t risk going against that.I had quite a long debriefing session with him.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“Well, the truth.That I’d had no hand in it, and no angel there had.And that I certainly hadn’t seen any extra _children_ onboard.”He paused, then with a small smile added, “He never asked about the nest of snakes.”

Crowley laughed, hooking an arm around him as he opened the door.“You beautiful bastard of an angel.”

“Oh!” Susan looked up as the sounds from the hallway suddenly reached her.“Ah—as much as I appreciate the sound proofing, could you—?”

“Oh.”The demon snapped his fingers and the ordinary ambient noises of the building returned.“Right.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If there are demons who aren’t evil, then we must allow for angels who—who are not good. I—I’m starting to think that, despite everything we’ve been led to believe, the fundamental difference between angels and demons is nothing more or less than—well, obedience. To Heaven.”

“It was just a thought I had the other day,” Aziraphale said.“We were always told that we—angels—were made from Love.And I think that much _is_ true. _But_ —that includes the Fallen angels.Every _demon_ was made from Love just the same as every angel still in Heaven.Same original stock.”He looked over to Crowley.“Now _I_ know, of course, that the Fall didn’t make them unable to feel or act out of love, no matter what Heaven says.So the demons who do seem devoid of love—it must be a—a personal choice.”

“Meaning they act ’evil’—without love—because they choose to,” Susan said.“Not because it’s inherent.”

“Yes.And if that’s the case. . . .”He took a deep breath.“If that is the case, and it seems to be, then—then angels are every bit as capable of turning their backs on love.”

“While still remaining angels,” she concluded.

“If there are demons who aren’t evil, then we must allow for angels who—who are not _good_.I—I’m starting to think that, despite everything we’ve been led to believe, the fundamental difference between angels and demons is nothing more or less than—well, obedience.To Heaven.”

Crowley snorted.“Well—yeah.You could put it that way.The rest is just window dressing.”

“How do you mean?” Susan prompted.

“Well, ranks in Hell are less about how much power you have and more about how you’re willing to use it, so the upper ranks—the barons, dukes, lords—they’re all nasty pieces of work.But down in the unranked masses there are plenty of ‘punch clock’ demons—demons who do the tempting and whatnot because it’s their job, not ’cause they enjoy it or really care about how many souls Hell gets.”

“It’s true that most of the minor demons I’ve run into over the years have been more apathetic and morose than evil,” Aziraphale added.

“The opposite is true, too.Plenty of angels who get outright gleeful with the divine retributions and smitings and only go through the motions with the blessings and miracles.”

Aziraphale sighed.“Ah.Yes.That lot.I did my best to avoid associating with them.”

Crowley scoffed.“I couldn’t always avoid them.Ever see one of those lot when they get a whiff of ‘demon’?”

“Oh dear.”

“Luckily most of them get a bit stupid, too.Anyway, my point is that the line between ‘angel’ and ‘demon’ has never really been about what our Head Offices like to pretend it’s about.”

“So you’re saying that there have always been demons who aren’t evil and angels who aren’t good,” Susan said.“That makes sense.But let me ask something else:who defines ‘good’ and ‘evil’?For us—humans—those definitions change constantly.It depends on your culture, your family, your religion, the era you live in—it’s completely subjective.Who defines it for you?”

“Well, it’s. . . .”Aziraphale shared a look with Crowley.“. . . Oh my.It’s always been Head Office, hasn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Did the Almighty ever . . .?”

“Not that I remember.But there wasn’t an ‘evil’ side back then—no sides at all—so maybe there wouldn’t have been a point.”

“I don’t remember _Her_ ever saying word one about it afterwards.Head Office did.”

“So your job performance,” Susan ventured, “how well you did as an angel, was judged by—by Head Office, not by the Almighty.”

“Yes.Always.”

“This same Head Office which was all gung-ho about ending the world.”

“Yep,” Crowley confirmed.

“From my completely biased, very human perspective, ending the world seems like a pretty _evil_ thing to do.”

“Well _I_ certainly didn’t see anything _good_ about it,” Aziraphale said.“Despite what Gabriel was saying about ‘finally settling things.’”He shifted, glancing down at his hands.“But that does raise a very important question.Namely. . . .”

“Why are you still an angel,” Crowley finished.

Aziraphale nodded.

“You mean after stopping Armageddon?” Susan asked.“That does seem like a pretty blatant act of disobedience.”

“Unless it wasn’t,” Crowley mused.“Unless you were disobeying _management_ , but—” he flicked a hand upward, “—not the Big Boss.”

“Well. . . .” Aziraphale shifted again.“I hesitate to speculate on the Almighty’s thinking, but . . . evidence does seem to suggest that.”

“Sure would be nice if She _let us in on the game plan_.”

Aziraphale winced and cleared his throat.“But—but _all of this_ raises another question.That being, how can we _choose_ at all.How have we— _ever_ —been able to choose.”

She looked at him blankly for a moment before her mind dredged up something from some long ago Sunday School lesson.“Oh— _oh_ , you mean—angels aren’t meant to have free will.”When he nodded she shook her head.“Well, the two of _you_ certainly act as if you’ve got free will.Just as much as any human does.And if you—angels—didn’t have free will, what would be the point of all the rules and punishments?The lot of you would simply do as you were intended.”

“Well . . . if the Almighty did plan things this way . . . maybe we still are.”

“And maybe that’s all any of us do,” she countered.“Philosophers have been debating the concept of _free will_ and whether it exists since the dawn of philosophy.Frankly, I’ve never seen the point.Maybe we do, or maybe we’re all slaves to the circumstances of our birth—but we all have to _act_ as if we do.Nobody’s told _us_ the game plan, so all we can do is act as if there isn’t one.”

“Humans actually debate that?” Crowley asked.“The whole point of humans was free will.The whole point of this entire bloody game board known as _Earth_ was free will.”

“Humans are great at over thinking things,” she acknowledged.“But anyway, none of what you’ve told me makes a lick of sense unless angels—and demons— _have_ free will.You don’t make _rules_ if no one is capable of acting otherwise.”

“D’you even remember who told us angels don’t have free will?” Crowley asked his companion.“’Cause I don’t.”

“Now that you mention it, no,” Aziraphale said.“It was just sort of . . . understood.”

“When everyone was working on plans for the Garden.Right?I remember everyone talking about how that was going to be the _big deal_ with humans.They were going to be special because they had _free will_.”

“Yes.It was just sort of, well, _understood_ that it made them different from us.Made them special.”

“Gotta be careful with those things that _everyone knows_ ,” Susan interjected.“And I see another contradiction here:if angels weren’t created with free will, how could the Fallen have been cast out for disobeying?Doesn’t it take _free will_ to disobey?”

Crowley stared at her for a moment, then scoffed.“Y’know what, you’re right.Either we were _created_ to Fall, which means we were all doing exactly what we were meant to and the whole _disobeying_ thing is a blessed smokescreen, or the ‘angels haven’t got free will’ thing is a crock of shit.”

“I think I lean toward the latter,” she said.

“Which means,” Aziraphale mused.“What this _all_ means is that there really is no ‘inherent nature’ for _either_ angels or demons.Tendencies, maybe, but none of it is set in stone.”He looked over to Crowley, and there was something impish in his smile.“I don’t know about you, dear, but I find that rather freeing.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Everything you’ve done, ever, has been because of or in spite of what you are.”

“You talk about being an angel and a demon as if they were jobs, or assignments,” Susan was saying.“But—forgive me for stating the obvious—it was much more than that.It was a way of being, a set of rules, that was drilled into both of you from—well, from the time you were created.Everything you’ve done, ever, has been _because of_ or _in spite of_ what you are.”

They glanced toward each other, thoughtful.

“But most importantly to our purposes here, this dictated every aspect of your relationship,” she continued.“How and when you could interact, how close you could get—all of it has been _in spite of_ or _because of_ what you are.And now that structure is gone.”

“Yes.Well.”Aziraphale made a vague gesture, glancing to her before turning back to Crowley.“I suppose it _was_ the ‘end of the world’ in a way.But I would think in _this_ case that would be a good thing.”

“It is!But even a positive change is stressful.And this was a _huge_ change.”She paused to let that sink in.“When a change like this happens, it’s tempting to just carry on like normal.‘Normal’ can be comforting, even if it isn’t _liked_.But you have to face that there _is_ no normal anymore.Your old status quo is gone.”

“More like obliterated.”

“We did rather make a mess of it.”

She had to smile at their quips.They probably didn’t notice, given their focus on each other.

“You’re still in the process of finding your footing,” she stressed.“With each other but also in your lives in general.That’s just going to take time.Time and a lot of hard work.”

“That’s what we were fighting for, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said.“Time.”

“Oh I dunno,” Crowley mused.“The world not ending is great and all, but I had something a bit more personal on my mind.Demons are selfish like that.”

The look Aziraphale gave him was equal parts adoring and fond amusement.“What I said on the air base—it wasn’t a threat.That isn’t why I said it.”

“I know, angel.You’re lousy at threats.Can’t deny that it worked, though.”

Susan debated asking for clarification, but decided it wasn’t important at the moment.“The point here is, the two of you might have to start treating this as—as more like a _new_ relationship.Because in many ways it is.”

“I . . . suppose it is,” Aziraphale said.

“All the old rules are gone,” Crowley agreed.

“Seems we’re back to figuring it out as we go.”

They still hadn’t looked away from each other.

“There’s still a lot that you need to work through,” she stressed.“Both individually and as a couple.I don’t want to downplay that.”

They both saw her point there.Six thousand years worth of baggage was a lot to unpack.But she felt they’d reached a turning point.She felt that, whatever else happened, these two would be all right.

As they were wrapping up for the day, Aziraphale paused and turned once more to his companion.“My dear, I’m so glad you insisted on this.”

Crowley gave him a self conscious smile, his shades in hand.“I thought I lost you once.I wasn’t going to lose you again just because we’re a pair of idiots who can’t get our heads out of our own arses.”

“Eloquently put, dear.”

“So, um,” Susan ventured.“This is just for my own curiosity, but—the traditional descriptions of angels?The really out there ones?Any accuracy to that?”

Aziraphale looked amused.“You mean with the plethora of eyes, several pairs of wings, wheels of fire and all?No.It’s just that the human mind can’t comprehend a full Manifestation, so it . . . translates.And humans have such wonderfully fanciful imaginations.”

“Ah.That makes more sense.I always thought those were a bit much.”

Crowley smirked as he slid his shades into place.“You _could_ look like that.If you wanted to.”

“I’ll do the wheels and eyes, dear, if you do the horns and barbed tail.”

“As long as I don’t have to carry a pitchfork.Really not my kind of accessory.”

“No harps, either.I’m rubbish at strings.”

As they left she saw them brush hands and then, tentatively, reach out and entwine fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming along with me on this ride! This was, in many ways, and incredibly self-indulgent fic, and I'm tickled that it has been so well received. I love these two ineffable idiots and am glad I was able to share my riffing on them ♥


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